


Inktober 2019: It Chapter 1 & 2

by Sammy1983Moose



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, I may mention stanleys suicide, M/M, TW: Blood, TW: Homophobia, TW: Suicide, TW: Suicide Mention, a lot of these just like, basically if you've seen the movies, canon typical gore, i wont be going off the rails on this, ignored the clown entirely, its what he deserves honestly, oh well, so most of these just never involved pennywise, tw: body horror, tw: gore, you'll be able to handle whatever this throws at you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-11-15 04:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20860277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy1983Moose/pseuds/Sammy1983Moose
Summary: (Quick Edit: Hi, I fell off the writing wagon. My bad. it's possible I'll revisit this, though it won't, obviously, be for October of 2019. I'm sorry!! I love you guys, and hope I didn't make anyone upset.)I've read that it would be okay to do short stories for Inktober, and wanted to give it a try for It! Each chapter will have the word of the day, and I'll try to remember to bold the word too. This is multi-ship, but it'll all be very sfw in that regards! Most of these are stand alones, which is why in some of them there may be stanlon, and some may have stenbrough. I just felt I should change it up to offer a wider selection!This WILL HAVE canon typical violence. If you've seen the movies, you'll be able to handle these. Tagged different things just in case, but I honestly don't know where this will lead to. There will be blood, violence, harsh language,  etc.Hope you all enjoy! Happy October!





	1. Loser

Eddie was walking down the hall to his second period class, arms laden with textbooks and notebooks. He’d been in a hurry that morning, wanting to ask the teacher a question about the previous night’s homework, and hadn’t even noticed Henry Bowers coming right out of the classroom he was passing until they collided, Eddie’s books scattering to the floor.

“Watch where you’re going, you fucking  **loser** !” Bowers snarled, giving Eddie’s shoulder a shove.

Eyes widening, Eddie took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I, uh.. I didn’t mean..”

  
  
“What, you start stuttering too? Just like B-B-Billy?” he taunted, laughing in Eddie’s face. “C’mon, you little freak, answer me. You turn into a pussy too?”

  
  
“Bill’s not a pussy,” Eddie frowned defiantly, though he shuffled another step backward when Henry advanced on him. 

“You all are. You and those other fucking losers you walk around here with,” Bowers smirked, backing Eddie against the lockers, his fist clenched. “The slut. The stutterer. The black kid. The jew. The fatass. The faggot. Then there’s you… both a faggot and a hypochondriatic loser. You’re all pussies. All 7 of you.”   
  
“Sorry old chap,” Richie suddenly interrupted, and Eddie turned his head to see his best friend standing there with his arms crossed. They were only 16, but Richie had shot straight up and was taller than Bowers even though he was two years younger. They could all tell this bothered Henry. “Seems to me you’ve got this lad backed into a corner. I would recommend you take several steps back, turn the other direction and walk away.”

Bowers snickered, then grabbed the front of Eddie’s shirt and looked over at Richie. “Or what? You gonna hit me, faggot? Gonna protect your little /boyfriend/?”

Something dangerous flashed in Richie's eyes, and he reared back, socking Bowers right in the nose. A loud crack could be heard, and Eddie screamed when the bully's nose poured blood.

"You'll fuckin' pay for this, Tozier! I'll fuckin' kill you!" Bowers snarled, shoving his way past them both to run to the bathroom. 

Shaking his hand out with a wince, Richie looked over at Eddie and offered a smile. "You alright, Spaghetti Man?"

  
Eddie didn't even have it in him to fuss at Richie for the nickname, nodding shaking and letting out a slow, shaky breath. "T-Thanks, Rich.."  


"Any time, Eds. C'mon, you're late to class."

"Oh shit, seriously??" Eddie groaned, snatching up his books and running after Richie to their second period class.


	2. Placebo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit dark, and has to do with Eddie's growing dread of taking his medicine. Just take care as you read, and be aware that this one was a tad bit darker and more sad than the previous chapter.

Staring down at the pill case on the kitchen table before him, Eddie’s stomach was in painful, fearful knots. 

He’d told his mother that he was fully aware her pills were nonsense. ‘Gazebos’, he’d shouted only a year and a half ago, scattering the bottle throughout the living room in a loud, almost deafening clatter. He’d been so sure he’d won, and had faced her. She’d stopped looming over him for a while, even. That hadn’t lasted very long, however, and here he sat, eyes watering as he stared down at no less than 10 pills in varying sizes and colors. 

Some, he knew, were harmless. Multi-vitamins that he probably didn’t need, considering he ate healthily enough. One was for ADHD, a pill he was particularly reluctant to take. It made him feel like a zombie, a shell of himself, and he hated the way it weighed him down. Two were for allergies that he wasn’t even certain he had, but they made him sleepy in a way that had begun to scare him. The other three Sonia had told him were for conditions Eddie had never even shown signs of having. 

Seizures, she’d said, and thyroid issues. He’d never had a seizure in his life, and he knew for a fact they were simply  **placebos** ; what they were truly composed of was a mystery that frightened and worried him. Eddie had begun to wonder if Sonia was giving him these pills because she genuinely believed they helped, or simply because they made him too tired and weak to fight back against her iron will.

“Eddie-Bear, you need to take your medicine,” she insisted from behind him, startling him from his thoughts. 

“I don’t want to, Mommy. There’s nothing wrong with me..”

“Edward, you have to take them. You’ll have a horrible allergic reaction if you don’t take your allergy pills, and you know how you get without your ADHD medicine. What if you have a seizure? Don’t you know I only want to protect you? Be a good boy and take them,”

“No..”

An angrier, less affectionate emotion flashed over Sonia’s face, and she rested a tight hand on his shoulder. “You’ll take them, or you’ll be stuck in this house for the next month. I’m certain you don’t want that, sweetheart, and I don’t want to do that to you. Just take your medicine like a good boy, and everything will be okay.”

Stinging tears filled his eyes as he swallowed thickly, reaching to take the glass of water that she’d sat down. Almost mechanically, and refusing to let the tears slip down his cheeks, he popped the pill case open, dumped the contents for that day into the palm of his hand, and knocked them back, his heart shattering with the fear that this would be his life, and that he’d never have control over his own self. 

He felt a kiss to the top of his head, heard words of praise from Sonia even though he was too upset to really process what exactly had been said, and the woman retreated to her favorite place in the living room, leaving Eddie to sit and let the pills he knew full well he didn’t need kick in, a painful ache in his heart and stomach.

  
  



	3. Oath

Richie’s hands were sweating, and he wiped them on the thighs of his dress pants, eyes wide and nervous. He ran his hand through his hair once again and Beverly caught him, frowning as she reached over to fix it.    
  
“Richie, stop that, how many times do we have to fix your hair? Everything’s going to be just fine, stop being so nervous,” she smiled, and he let out a weak laugh, shaking his head.

“Stop being nervous? Seriously, Bev, that’s got to be some of the worst advice I’ve heard since the K-Mart CEO’s suggested buying Sears.”

“I’m just saying, Richie, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” She chuckled, and that’s when Stan poked his head into the room, smiling. 

“They’re ready,” he said, and Richie felt his heart drop all over again, nodding and following Stan out into a room full of well-dressed people sitting in neat little rows; family members, friends, all gathered for the same reason.

He made his way to the front of the room, and his heart did a backflip when the music began moments later, the door opening again for Eddie to step inside and make his way to the front. Richie, at that point, didn’t give a damn what Beverly had said and ran a hand through his hair again, tears filling his eyes and spilling over before he could even begin to stop them. A smile spread across his face, a very quiet laugh escaping his mouth. Fuck, Eddie looked good.

Eddie was wearing a tuxedo as well, his hair done up in the most handsome way, and there was a fucking  _ beautiful _ smile on his face. Richie couldn’t fucking believe it. He was really, honestly and truly about to marry the love of his life.

When Eddie joined him in the front, they joined hands, Richie looking down at Eddie and grinning wildly. Eddie already had tears sliding down his face, and Richie brought one hand up to gently wipe them away with the back of his pointer finger.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of two lives as one,” the preacher beside them began, and Rich gave Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Should anyone object to the joining of these two fine people, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Silence, of course.

The preacher continued, speaking of marriage and what it meant to dedicate your life to the person you loved. Richie couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie, looking into those big brown eyes with a love so strong it threatened to crack his heart right in half. He could hear words full of love, speaking about cherishing the time spent with loved ones, of appreciating, protecting, and respecting them. Suddenly, Richie remembered the paper in his pants pocket and his eyes widened, turning to the preacher and stopping him.

  
  


“Oh! Wait, wait, I have something I want to say,” Richie looked up at the preacher, giving him an apologetic face for interrupting. The man simply nodded, smiled, and gestured for him to speak. Richie let go of one of Eddie’s hands to pull the paper out, shaking it open and glancing down at it. His hands were shaking, and he could feel that Eddie’s were too. He looked back up at Eddie, who looked surprised, happy, and close to a full on sob-fest.

“Eds- Eddie,” he corrected himself, but Eddie could only let out a watery laugh, and Richie grinned. “I knew you love being called Eds. I uh, I’m not fantastic with words. I’ll be real with you, there’s like three sentences on this paper and none of them are enough. There’s not enough words in the dictionary to tell you how I feel about you,” he shoved the paper back into his pocket with a loud crumpling sound, causing a few folks, including Eddie, to laugh quietly. 

“You were my best friend. You still are, obviously, but I just- You’ve meant everything to me since we were in kindergarten, from the moment I met you. You’ve tolerated more than any single man should, and have been more or less accepting of me the entire time, despite how much you hate some of the things I say. There’s only five people in the entire world who knows what you and I went through. Five people who knows that I forgot someone I should’ve never, ever been able to forget, even if it was against my will. Even then, though, I desperately need you to know that I remembered, in some way. I didn’t remember your face, or your name-” he took a shaky breath, sighing deeply and smiling weakly, trying to steady himself. “I didn’t remember any of that, but I knew, deep in my heart, that something huge was missing. I knew there was a massive piece of me that had disappeared, leaving a gaping hole that could only be filled by the person who took that piece with them. So, Eds.. Eddie, my love.. Today, I’m making an  **oath ** to you. I swear to you, I will never leave you behind. Where you go, I will follow. Where you sleep, I will sleep. I will never, ever break your heart or let you get hurt. I spent 27 years of my life missing the most massive piece of it. I intend to spend the next 40 to 60 years cherishing the fact that I was fortunate enough to get that piece back. I love you with every part of my heart and soul, Eddie, and I will never stop loving you,” 

“That was impressive, Rich! Who knew you were so eloquent?” Stan teased from beside them and Richie grinned, turning to the man to whisper a threat against his life before turning back to Eddie, glancing at the preacher that they were ready to continue. 

“Do we have the rings?” he asked, and Richie nodded, looking back to Stan, who fished them from his pocket and handed them both over, each taking one in preparation. 

“Edward,” the preacher smiled, getting his attention. “Do you take Richard Tozier to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish him, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do,” Eddie smiled, letting out a weak, happy little laugh as the preacher nodded for him to slip the ring onto Richie’s finger.

“And Richard, do you take Edward Kaspbrak to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish him, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do, absolutely,” Richie beamed, sliding the ring onto Eddie’s finger and giving his hand another gentle squeeze.

“With the power vested in me by God and the state of California, I am delighted to declare that your lives are now joined in holy marriage. You may now kiss,” he smiled, gesturing to them, and Richie grinned, wrapping his arms and lifting Eddie off his feet as their lips finally met, the room breaking out in loud, happy cheering. 

“I love you so much..” Richie whispered against Eddie’s lips when he finally sat his husband back down, refusing to let Eddie go. 

“I love you too..” Eddie beamed, brushing their noses together before kissing him again, and the two of them stepped down from the alter, hand in hand, to join their friends and family in celebration, happier than they’d ever been in their entire lives, feeling safe, loved, and content.


	4. Carnival

“Rich, no,”   
  
“The kids asked, Eds, it wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m not taking them to see those fucking clowns and ride those busted rides!”

“Babe, c’mon, it’s just the  **carnival** . It’s gone, has been for 4 years now. I’ll be right there with you,” 

Eddie sighed weakly, sitting down on the edge of their bed and rubbing his eyes. Never had he imagined himself a parent to not one, not two, but three children, much less at his age. Dakota, their oldest, was 10, a quiet boy who spent most of his time by Eddie’s side. Riley was the middle child, a 6 year old firecracker of a girl, just as quick-witted as Eddie and with every bit the sass that went with it. Lily was their youngest, 4 years old and a clone of Richie, with a loud mouth that occasionally uttered something crass (Richie found it hysterical; Eddie did not), glasses, and one hell of an attitude. Lily was, predictably, constantly on Richie’s hip, following him everywhere. They’d adopted all three of them at once; siblings who’d lost their parents in a tragic car accident, they’d survived with only minor injuries, some physical scars that would never quite fade, emotional scars to match. They were incredible kids, and Eddie would do anything for them. But the thought of taking their kids around clowns…?

“C’mon, Eds, it’ll be alright… look, we’ll keep them all close, never leave their side. Lily’s feral, anyways. She’ll probably scare the poor bastards. And honestly, even if It were alive, which It’s  _ not _ , we- what? Tell it it’s ugly, and it’ll go away? It’ll be fine, Eds,” Richie promised, sitting and rubbing a hand over Eddie’s back, careful of the large scar there. “That fucking thing’s long dead…”

Sighing, Eddie leaned his head on Richie’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “I know, I know… I guess I just worry so  _ much _ …”

“Always have,”   
  
“Shut up, dick…” Eddie smiled weakly, shaking his head slightly. “You  _ know  _ what I mean. We went through so much, and we weren’t much older than Dakota. I just… I imagine them in the same situations, and I get so fucking scared. I can’t let anything happen to them Rich, I  _ won’t _ .”

“I know, my love, I feel the same way. I nearly lost you, and I worry about them every day of my life. But you don’t need to worry about that, okay? Besides, as far as ride quality goes, they upped their regulations. After last year’s ferris wheel incident, the county really cracked down on the codes and standards for all the rides. They’ll be perfectly safe, honey.”

Eddie finally sighed, looking up at Richie and pressing a kiss to his jawbone. “Since when did you become the voice of reason, huh..?” he questioned, a small smile on his lips. 

“Oh, Eddie, my love, I’ve always been the voice of reason. Not my fault that you’re just now deciding to listen.”

Eddie decidedly ignored Richie’s attempt to get a rise out of him, rolling his eyes and smiling as he stood and stepped out of their room to tell their kids to get ready. They had a carnival to attend. 


	5. Stutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this one. Sorry about it.

It was the Summer after they’d finally graduated high school, and the Losers were desperate to find jobs. They wanted to split the house payment on a house that had recently opened up, one that, though it would be cramped, would fit them nicely enough and suit their needs. Mike had been able to find one relatively easy, assisting other families with yard work, or with farming. Ben, ever the charming young man, had easily landed a job at the library. Eddie, Richie, Bev, even Stan all found jobs. The only one left was Bill.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. In fact, Bill had put in at damn near every place hiring, and had been constantly turned away. The last place he’d come in for an interview to had told him to stop trying, that nobody would hire somebody with  _ his condition _ . They’d said it like it was almost dirty, or like he was inferior to them. It wasn’t until he was sitting in his room with Stan, packing up a box of books, that he decided to bring it up to Stan what had happened.

“What do you  _ mean  _ they won’t hire you?” Stan frowned, shaking his head. “You’re strong, smart, a quick learner. That’s everything a person could want for a new employee.”

“Yeah, ex-except I s-s-stutter,” Bill frowned, leaning against his headboard. “Th-They told me I cuh-can’t find a j-job like this..”

“They’re bullshitting you, and I’m calling the department of labor tomorrow. They can’t fucking discriminate against you like that, Bill,” Stan shook his head, setting aside a pile of papers from Bill’s desk. “It’s fucking terrible.”

Bill smiled weakly as he watched Stan move around his room, a warmth in his chest. “Y-You always l-look after me…” He murmured. “I lo-love you, Stan..”

Stan paused, then sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to press a kiss to Bill’s lips, smiling gently. “I love you too. Don’t stress yourself out, okay..? You’ll find a job in no time. Just because a few people wanted to be assholes doesn’t mean they’re right. You’re smart and hard-working, and someone’s bound to see that.”

“You’re r-right.. I’ll fuh-find something soon,” Bill agreed, reaching and taking hold of Stan’s hand, gripping it tight. 

It was only two weeks later that Bill had a job at the comic book store, the owner hiring him for the same qualities Stan himself had pointed out, and it made Bill incredibly grateful that Stan hadn’t allowed him to give up. 


	6. Heal

It was day 9 of sitting in the same chair, staring at the same four walls, drinking the same shitty coffee, and waiting for Eddie to wake up.

He’d been without more than 2 or 3 hours sleep since the day they drug their friend from the sewer, unconscious in Richie’s arms and bleeding out far too fast. Eddie shouldn’t have lived.

But he did.

Richie couldn’t say he was upset about that. He just wished Eddie would open his eyes and stop scaring the shit out of them all. 

The doctors had told Richie there was a 40% chance he may never wake up. Being run through the middle, it turns out, can really fuck a person up. The damage sustained had been immense, and Richie had been told that, even if Eddie did wake up, he may never walk again. He’d never be the same.

_ ‘I’ll take him any way I can have him,’ _ Richie had pleaded that night, hands shaking as he eased Eddie down onto the stretcher that would whisk the man away for the next 20 hours.  _ ‘Just- please, please don’t let him fucking die.’ _

And he didn’t, not yet at least. 

But Eddie still hadn’t woken up, and it was starting to get scary. Richie was beginning to face the idea that Eddie may never wake up at all, and the thought alone made bile rise in his throat. He couldn’t lose Eddie, not after he just got the man back.

It was day 9, and Richie was startled awake by a weak noise from the bed. Rising from the armchair, the man sat aside a cold, half empty cup of coffee (his 4th that evening), and reached for Eddie’s hand instead. “Eddie? Hey, man, you finally waking up? Hey!” he turned to face the door, raising his voice. “Hey! We need a nurse in here!”

Another weak whimper fell from Eddie’s mouth, and Richie’s heart ached. “Easy, Eds, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, more gentle with Eddie in that moment than he’d ever been with anything else before. 

Two nurses bustled in only moments later, looking relieved to see Eddie coming to. Richie had to step back, but he kept talking to Eddie nonetheless, reassurances and promises that he couldn’t necessarily keep. Anything to keep Eddie from losing his shit the second he remembered what happened. 

It took them about an hour for the nurses to do what they needed to do, and by the end of it, Eddie was still awake; groggy, perhaps, but awake. It was clear to Richie that Eddie knew exactly what happened, but he didn’t seem intent on telling their nurses, lest they diagnose him with a false case of hysteria.

“You still there, Rich..?” Eddie muttered once the nurses left, and Richie was by his side at once.

“Right here, Eds..” He breathed, smiling weakly. “Took you long enough to wake up.. Thought you were fucking with me for a second.”

“You look like shit..”

“Take a look in the mirror, you little turd,”

“Have you stayed this entire time?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

Eddie opened his eyes and locked them with Richie’s, and Richie felt his heart do a somersault. 

“I don’t wanna go back to New York, Richie… I don’t love my house, or my fucking stupid job, or my insane wife… I wanna..” he seemed to debate, before finally admitting, “I wanna go back with you, to L.A. I wanna  **heal ** there, and build a life with you…”

“Eddie, that’s… fuck, are you sure that’s what you want..? I mean, I’ve been annoying you since day one. You’re sure you want to spend that much time with me?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to spend that much time with,” Eddie smiled, though he looked sleepy. “I-I just.. Forgot. Please, Rich..?”

Richie let out a weak laugh, leaning down and kissing Eddie’s forehead. “Ask me again when you’re less high on morphine, Eddie. I need to know you mean this.”

Eddie pouted, but didn’t put up an argument, yawning and falling back asleep instead.

Four days later, Eddie asked again.

Richie said yes.


	7. Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was late lol i'm garbage

“I can’t fucking believe I feel bad enough to stay,” Richie muttered, dragging his suitcase from his car and back up the steps to the Derry Inn. He’d managed to escape, had been well on his way to fleeing the shitty little town he’d apparently grown up in. “I had dates in fuckin’ Reno..” he lamented, sighing as he slammed the door behind him. What he didn’t expect to see was Beverly and Ben crouched over Eddie, who was covered in blood.

“Eddie!” he gasped, dropping his bag and scrambling up the steps to the man, dropping to his knees and reaching out, hands hovering just above Eddie’s face like he was scared to touch.

“S’okay, ‘Chee,” Eddie muttered, more blood dripping down his chin, and Richie felt nauseous, eyes watering just a little. 

“Fuck, Eds, what- Jesus,” he breathed, getting to his feet and throwing open the door that led to Eddie’s room. His head spun at the blood covering the floor, his shoe sliding in it a little, and Richie had to wonder if it all even belonged to Eddie. The man wet a rag in the sink before hurrying back out to Eddie, carefully tilting Eddie’s chin to make eye contact. 

“Just hold still for me, man. It’s not even that bad, see? What-What the fuck happened?” Richie frowned, glancing over to Beverly before focusing his attention back on cleaning Eddie’s face. 

“He says Henry Bowers was in his room,” Beverly explained, her voice sad and worried. “Says Bowers pulled a **knife **on him, stuck it in his face. Eddie pulled it out and-and stabbed Bowers, but..”

“But he’s not there anymore,” Ben finished, resting a hand on Beverly’s shoulder. “I looked out the window and saw him run off. I don’t know _ how _he would’ve survived a fall from the window, but he did.”

Eddie made a small noise of pain, and Richie whispered an apology, dabbing at the area that looked the worst. “Do we have a first-aid kit anywhere? This shit’s still bleeding..”

Beverly got to her feet and went back downstairs to find something to put over Eddie’s cheek, Ben moving down the hall to search. Meanwhile, Richie finally got Eddie’s face cleaned up, and he smiled reassuringly.

“It’s really not so bad, Eds. You’ll have a sick ass scar, too. You’ll have to beat the ladies back with a stick,”

“Beep beep, asshole..” Eddie muttered, but there was a small hint of a smile, and Richie chuckled softly.

  
  
“One day, you’ll admit you think I’m funny, Eds.”

  
  
“I’ll die before I admit anything,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “And stop calling me Eds.”

  
  
“You love it,” Richie murmured, looking up when he saw Beverly from the corner of his eye. She held a small white box out to him, and he said a quick ‘thanks’ before patching Eddie’s cheek up with careful hands, trying and failing to ignore the aching in his heart. There was a moment, just a brief one, where he nearly leaned in to kiss Eddie, but he simply smiled tightly, patting the man’s shoulder. 

  
“All better, Eduardo. Take a rest, and call me in the morning.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to,” Eddie chuckled weakly, shaking his head a little, not knowing he’d never live to see the next day.


	8. Memory

The apartment was quiet, peaceful. Sure, L.A traffic was in full swing below, but Richie had tuned that out years ago. The man in his bed, who’d been in New York for years, had insisted that the noise was nothing to his old accommodations.

It was early morning, a Saturday in October, and the sun was filtering into their bedroom, creating a warmth that had Richie stretching contently, yawning and smiling. Eddie was still fast asleep beside him, curled up under their covers with his face buried in the pillow, and Richie took a moment to reach over and stroke his fingers over his husbands back. Their apartment was silent, with their dogs still asleep at the foot of their bed, and their kids seemingly still asleep too (though the more he listened, the more he was sure he could hear his oldest playing on the xbox with the volume very, very low). 

He felt so incredibly lucky that he was able to wake up to this every single day, especially when he’d come so close to losing Eddie nearly 3 years ago.

Eddie still had a scar in the center of his back, a physical piece of a painful  **memory** , and Richie allowed his fingers to pause on that marred place; it was nearing the anniversary of the very last time they saw that clown, the final time they ever fought It. The time they won. 

It had nearly taken Eddie away from Richie, away from all their friends, and everyone was shocked when they were able to not only get Eddie out from the sewers, but that Eddie survived the trip to the hospital, all the surgeries to make things right again. It had been a miracle, and it was something Richie found himself incredibly thankful for every single day.

Eventually, Eddie hummed sleepily, nosing against his pillow and yawning before turning his head to peer at Richie through sleepy eyes. “Mm.. mornin’..”

“Good morning, my love..” Richie whispered, smiling and reaching to thumb at Eddie’s cheek gently. “You sleep alright?”   
  
“Mhmm.. Is Dakota already on that Xbox..?” he muttered, and Richie couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped; Eddie’s hearing was incredible.

“Leave the boy alone, it’s Saturday..” 

Eddie simply hummed in response and turned onto his side, scooting closer to bury himself in Richie’s arms. “You’re so warm..” Eddie muttered against Richie’s chest, and Richie grinned, stroking a hand through Eddie’s hair. 

“Cute, Eds… so cute..” he whispered, already feeling sleep threatening to take them both once again. Their kids would come find them when they woke up and wanted breakfast. They could afford just a few more minutes. 


	9. Bird

Bill Denbrough was utterly exhausted.

It was nearly 8 in the morning, but he’d been awake all night long, desperate to finish his latest book. After all, he was meant to have it to the publisher by Thursday, and it was already Tuesday. He was certain he’d finish, but Bill never did like deadlines. They made him antsy. 

The house was quiet, and all he could hear outside was the early morning birds chirping away, and the occasional passing car. Moving to the countryside had been a big change, but then again, a lot of massive changes had come his way after defeating Pennywise.

He’d left Audra when he got home, though they both seemed to agree it was for the best. Neither were happy, and indeed, as soon as Bill moved into his new home, his entire mood shifted. It was as if his body had known it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. 

Bill suddenly felt gentle hands on his shoulders, massaging that tense place just under his neck, and he groaned softly, smiling and tilting his head back to rest on the persons stomach. “Good morning. I didn’t even hear you get up.”

Stan smiled down at him, eyes sleepy but full of love. “I hope you weren’t awake all night, Bill… Your book can wait, hon..”

There it was; a word Bill still wasn’t quite used to. One that made his heart flutter, and a stupid smile spread across his face. 

“I, uh… Well, yeah, I was. But I’m nearly finished, and once I wrap this up, I’ll-” 

His laptop was carefully closed in front of him, and Stan leaned against the counter, looking down at Bill. 

“You need to rest. Come on, you can help me fill up the  **bird ** feeder outside, then we can go back to bed. The book can wait until later. You’ll drive yourself insane if you keep going like this.”

Bill knew he was right, and stood with a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around Stan and pulling him in close. He’d come far too close to losing Stan for good, and always felt a warmth in his chest when he felt how real, how alive Stan was under his hands. Stan still had bandages on his arms, a grim reminder, and Bill felt suddenly angry with himself for spending so much time in front of that screen, instead of with his childhood best friend-turned-lover.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. Let’s go feed your birds, then we can go to sleep.”

Stan simply smiled and pressed a kiss to Bill’s jaw before stepping away, and Bill felt nothing but affection as he followed Stan out to the patio to feed their birds. 


	10. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, so I'm really sorry for procrastinating lmao. chapters 10-14 are all dropping tonight, in quick succession. my bad, y'all *finger guns*

The heat was blaring down on their necks as the group of kids made their way through the Barrens, wandering towards their clubhouse. It was the  **Summer** of ‘92, and the gaggle of 16 year olds were desperate to find a cool place to wait out the heat. Ben had suggested the clubhouse, after Richie and Bill nearly got into another fist fight over an argument that hadn’t even mattered to begin with, and the others were quick to agree.

Stan was leading up the rear, shuffling his feet along, feeling the skin on his neck turning from a pale white to a burned pink under the burning sun. He’d been quiet for the past week or two, ever since Bill had started hanging around Beverly even more than usual. 

They’d all assumed the two had finally gotten together, despite never seeing them holding hands or kissing, the way they all saw Matthew Jenkins and Penny Ryder under the bleachers during football one night. 

He knew for a fact Bill would want it that way, anyways. He’d want Stan to fall back, even leave if he knew what had been weighing on Stan’s heart for the past three years.

Stan looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes met Bill’s, blue and bright in the sunlight. He felt his breath catch in his throat, barely registering Bill’s words.    
  
“Sorry, uh.. What?”

“W-What’s wrong, St-Stan..? Wh-wh-why’re you walking all a-alone?”

Stan’s heart gave a weak little tug at the way Bill said his name. Quiet, as if it were a fragile thing. 

“M’alright, Billy, I’m just tired is all…”

“L-Liar. You’ve been q-quiet all week. Wh-What’s wrong, Stan? You can t-t-tell me..”

‘ _ I can’t, actually _ ’, is what Stan wanted to say, but he just shrugged, his resolve crumbling far faster than he’d intended. Bill just sighed at the reply and took ahold of Stan’s hand, causing Stan’s stomach to do a flip.

“Come on, l-let’s walk to-together.. There’s so-something I gotta t-t-tell you, anyways,” Bill insisted, falling back with Stan, but never letting go of his hand. 

After that day, they weren’t caught much of anywhere without them being hand in hand.


	11. Walkman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm listening to true crime on podcast at work while writing this.
> 
> "Oooh, that pesky DNA...."

“Watch where you’re going, fat ass!” Bowers jeered, shoving Ben against the lockers, cackling. Ben grimaced at the sudden pain in his shoulder, gritting his teeth and looking up at the older boy.

He’d just been trying to walk to class. That’s it. Ben would never be able to understand what it was about his existence that drove Henry Bowers to be so cruel; sure, he was overweight, but it didn’t really matter  _ that much _ , did it? Rolling his eyes, the 16 year old pulled his headphones back on, reaching into his jacket pocket and pressing the play button on his  **Walkman** , letting the New Kids on the Block silence Henry’s cruel words.

It didn’t last long, though. Bowers was never one to appreciate being ignored, especially when he’d decided he wanted a rise out of you. Ben didn’t even know what was happening before he was pinned to the locker, Bowers holding his shoulders as Hockstetter fished the Walkman from his pocket. “Hey, no, give that back,” Ben argued, earning him a punch to the gut, another to the nose. 

“Oh, does Porky want his precious Walkman back?” Patrick taunted, laughing and throwing it down the hallway as hard as he could. “You’ll learn to quit backtalking us one day, Hanscom. Maybe it’ll be the same day you learn to quit fucking eating-”

“Leave him alone!” came a girls voice, angry and loud; Beverly.

“Ooh, coming to your fatass boyfriend’s rescue? No wonder you love him so much. Only a pathetic loser like him could ever love such a nasty slut.”

“I said to leave him the /fuck alone/,” Beverly snarled, and Bowers chuckled, releasing Ben in favor of turning on Beverly.

“Yeah? You gonna make me?”

Ben hadn’t expected Beverly to haul off and actually punch Bowers right in the nose, hadn’t expected the boys to turn tail in shock, but he was incredibly relieved nonetheless. 

“T-Thanks,” he breathed, letting out a shaky breath and reaching out to touch her hand. “A-Are you okay..?” he asked, ignoring the trickle of blood he could feel underneath his nose. 

“Me? What about you?” she frowned, reaching out to rest her fingertips on Ben’s cheek, getting a better look at Ben’s nose. “He hit you hard..”

“I’ll be okay,” he promised, shrugging and smiling weakly, shaking his head. “It’s not like it’ll make much of a difference anyway,”

“Ben,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “I need you to believe me when I say you can’t listen to them. You’re handsome, do you know that? You’re very handsome,” she promised, and Ben felt his cheeks flush with color at the compliment. “You don’t need to listen to their words. They’re just jealous assholes who-who think they can get away with being bullies to someone when they’re just sad they can’t be smart or good-looking,” she said, matter-of-factly, but at that, even she blushed, smiling and glancing down at the ground. “C’mon, new kid.. Let’s get your nose cleaned up. I bet Billy can fix your Walkman, too. He fixed Richie’s record player the other day.”

“Wait,” Ben asked as they walked down the hall, stooping to collect his Walkman, “What happened to Richie’s Walkman?”

“He pissed Eddie off and they started wrestling, but they ran into the table and knocked it into the floor.”

Ben could only shake his head and laugh, sighing as they headed down the hall together, a new hope in his heart that he and Beverly could be as happy as Bill and Stan, or Richie and Eddie. 


End file.
